Nightmare
by donttouchtheotter
Summary: Chekov is being plagued with nightmares and although he tries to hide it, Sulu, his roommate at the academy, finds out. However not even Sulu can keep away all of the nightmares and the dreams continue. There is only one thing that can help Chekov and that's a hand to hold.
1. Chapter 1

"Get into the craft"

He bellowed down the hall. Sirens wailing and the red light flashing down the halls, I could hear the screams of others, I could hear the screeching of the wind against the metal as it fell and I can feel the tension building.

I can feel the fear and the pain is high and I understand that it will never be the same again.

Nothing will ever be the same again; nothing will be what I think of as normal again. I can feel it falling down around me, the inevitable is coming.

I don't understand how to get there. I don't know which way the crowd is flowing. I can't see through the see of people. I know why everyone is running. I know that I am scared; very scared.

A warm hand clasps around my hands as I stand frozen in the crowd. The crowd pushes against us and I cling tightly to the hand as I know the feeling of the fingers against mine.

My mother, it is her hand. Her hand is strong and it makes me relax. She moves me over towards a wall, getting down onto her knees and looking at me. My mother is beautiful; her face is looks as though it was carved by the hands of angels. She stands above me like an angel beside me, holding onto my hand as she looks into my eyes with her deep soothing brown.

"My darling." She utters in Russian, her pink lips are flustered and her pale skin looks so fair in the light.

"Pasha," she whispers. I can hear her even though there is noise filling the sky and ash raining down on us.

"Get in the craft!" Yells the voice again and I feel my mother squeeze my fingers again.

I look deep into her eyes and I see the pain that is filling them. I see every detail and every flaw within the hazel. I see where there are dark places and where the light bounces off the speckles of green. I see a single tear begin to form as it rolls down her cheek. I see that there is pain in her face and it hurts me like nothing else in the world to see my mother cry.

"I love you." She whispers, pressing her cold lips onto my forehead and I feel something catch in my throat. I feel the pain of her words, catching in my voice and I cannot speak.

"I love you mum." I utter back in Russian into her hair as it curtains my face as she embraces me.

Her arms are warm and they make me feel happier than anything else in the world. I know she is true in her words, just as I am true in mine.

She pulls away and I feel her breath catch in her throat. I feel that she is struggling as she forces a smile onto her porcelain face. I know that she is stricken in her emotions.

"I will always love you." She says as she pushes herself up into a standing position. She keeps her firm grip on my hand and I stay strong for her.

We run, we run with the crowd as it flows past us and we run like there is no tomorrow. I can feel the ground shaking; I can feel everything around me is shaking. I am shaking. I have no idea what is going to happen to us now.

The people are crowding around a small door, pushing and shoving to try and get in. I can tell that not many more people will be able to fit into the space where they are pushing. I look up to my mother, she moves me in front of her as we try and squeeze through the crowd. I look up before myself and I see my father, he is yelling for people to get into the compartment. I raise my arm to him, seeking his comfort in this time of confusion. He takes my hands as he flicks a glance down to me. I don't know what to think about the way he takes my hand and pulls, he stands in the doorway and he pulls my arm, squeezing me through the people so that I am beside him, crowded with all the people in the compartment.

I feel her fingers are sweaty, her hands clasp tightly around me but her arm is slipping. I can feel that she is failing, I want to hold onto her but I cannot keep my grip.

"Closing the doors!"

I hear the commander yell, I hear my father yell the words and it sends coldness through my body. His hand does not feel warm. His smile does not look like a true smile and I know that we are moving off, the doors are closed and I know she is on the other side. I know that my mother is on the ground. I know the ship is moving. Everything is going in slow motion as we move off the ground.

I can see the building. I can see my mother in the fray, with her long and tangled brown hair. I see her eyes and I watch as they begin to fade from my sights as I draw a great distance away from her with the speed of the craft. Then my world falls.

A fiery ball of red light explodes upon the ground where my mother is, where my mother was, where my mother now lies dead.

I can taste it. I can taste the salty tears in my eyes, the pounding in my chest. I know that I am fighting back the pain and the torment is building up in my head.

I can never forget.


	2. Chapter 2

I promise I will only be a minute. Right. About the long update time, my beta is slow and i will kick her for this, because it isnt editted. Apologies for that, it is probably not great.

However, if you do like it, a review would be massively appreciated. Takes two seconds to tell me you like it, and it means the world.

Also, i know i have two more chapters written, but you arent getting them yet because they arent edited. Sorry.

Over and out.

A slight sheen of cold sweat was the only thing I could feel other than his tears, and they stung bitterly as they rolled down my face.

It is funny how the old wounds were reopened; it is funny how the old scars that seem to have healed are now fresh in my mind. I caused them to open again, I made this choice and this is the choice that I think will change everything, even if it is hurting me more than anything I have ever known.

I keep my eyes clamped shut, my mind tries to hold back all of the memories, my face is biting back against the tears and the sobs. I try to make my mind go back to think about nice things from the past, but all I can think about is her face. Her face as she held onto my hand and whispered. "Я всегда буду любить тебя (I will always love you.)" To me, calling me her Pasha and I knew I had to be strong.

I can feel that I am becoming weak, we hold onto our wounds so tightly, but when they begin to fade we let them go and once we have let go of our old scars, that is when they come back and they show themselves in a true light. It hurts more than anything I have ever known and I do not want to know pain like this ever again.

I try again to smile and think of her as the good person she was, the only problem is my memory is fading. I do not want the only memory I have of my mother to be the time when I watched her burn to death in an explosion of fire and gas. I want to know her as the girl who raised me and loved me. She is my mother and I love her more than anything.

I squeeze back the memories and think of the future, there is a future ahead of me that could hold the entire world if I wanted it to. If fact, I think now that I am leaving the past behind, I think it does hold the whole world.

Alone. I go into this entirely alone, there is no one here beside me, no one wants to be beside me because all I once had is gone and this is all I have now.

My father is gone for good now. He never wants to see my face again, and I never want to see his face again. I don't know how I can look into his eyes and know that he is the reason my mother is dead, how I can look him in the eye and know that he wanted to save himself rather than others. He chose to make our ship fly out of port when there was a chance of fitting at last one more person on board. I loathe him for that. I cannot think of anything I hate more, he is cold and he is uncaring, he is the reason I want to help people. I want to help people because I know I can, and I know that I can with Starfleet.

They took convincing, convincing that I am strong enough for this. I know that I am strong enough to help other people, though at the moment I feel like my heart is being ripped in two by the idea that my father didn't help my mother. I can feel it resurfacing like a lion that is ready to pounce. I know it is hurting more than ever.

I let the tears slide down my face. I let my eyes open and I let them see the silent darkness that is around me, no one is awake to hear my breathing. The nearest person to me never speaks, he doesn't appear to do anything other than eat, sleep and study, and I think I would know as he lives in the same room as I do.

I don't know if I understand why my brain is so caught up in the issue. I don't know if anyone would understand why I feel the way I do and why I do the things I do.

I don't know anyone who has lost so much, my mother and then later my brother, and all due to the faults of my father. I have five years of my life I don't remember and then the ten years of pain my father gave me, and now I am able to stand alone, broken and alone.

I clutch to the things around me, I don't know here I am going, or what I am doing, I have to move from these sheets or they will end up driving me insane with my own mind.

I stand, feeling the gravity makes my tears begin to flow down my cheeks. I don't smile. I just walk in the direction of the door and hope that it leads me to some type of comfort. It opens as it senses me, the dim light comes on as I walk into the room and the floor looks like the most inviting thing I can think of in the moment.

I always end up in the bathroom, which is where I hide from my father at home, where I remember my mother the most, of how she would always go into the bathroom for some quiet. I like it, it is cold and I can feel the tiles under my hands as I sit upon them, feeling myself curl up into a ball and begin to cry.

The racking sobs are me letting go of my feelings, I know that it is better to let them go than to hold onto them and remain bitter. I should let the tears flow down off my cheek and I should learn to smile in time.

I remember one feature of my mother than holds me tighter than anything else. The way she held my hand, looked into my eyes, eyes full of pain, but she told me it was ok, everything was going to be fine. I remember that about my mother, it is my strongest memory.

I close my eyes and I feel the hand slip into mine, holding my hand. Warm and firm, no failure to understand the situation, just hope that it gets better. I cry into the shoulder that hugs me, I hug it back; it reminds me of my mother. However this is more than a mere memory, the comfort is real.


End file.
